21 Hours … 20 Hours … 19 Hours … 18 Hours … 17 Hours …

Imagine everything you’d do over if given the chance.

That thing you said at lunch that made everybody laugh because it was stupid?

Forgotten.

The humiliating thwack of the dodgeball against your thigh and the red mark it left behind?

Erased.

The misunderstanding that sent you to the “take a break” chair, when you weren’t really talking during social studies, you were only asking Jeffrey Mandel to return your pencil?

Over.

These are the sorts of things that sent Odessa back to the center of her attic floor, the rug rolled up and stashed near the bookcase. She would shut her eyes tight, hold her breath, and jump.

She jumped to undo something about her day that had gone a way she didn’t like.

What power.

How easy.

Still, there were choices to make.

What needed undoing?

And was undoing it worth living the whole day over again? Worth using up another jump back in time?

What about the things she would have to endure for a second time just to change the one thing she wanted to undo?

Take the farting incident.

Odessa knew that a loud fart could be a good thing if you happened to be a boy.

If you happened to be a girl, farting was a whole different story. It was something to be avoided at all costs. Something to live in mortal fear of. But living in mortal fear of something doesn’t mean it won’t happen to you.

Like vomiting. Odessa feared vomiting, but sometimes she’d get the stomach flu. Usually right after Oliver got it, because in addition to being a toad, Oliver was a walking germ-festOdessa feared shots. But she got them. She was afraid of thunder, but that didn’t keep storms from coming.

Odessa feared farting.

In front of other people.

Especially farting in front of somebody who looked cute since he’d stopped cutting his hair. Somebody she like-liked.

But still, it happened in front of Theo Summers.

During math.

Multiplication tables, to be precise.

Theo looked at her and she looked away, but she could feel how hot her face was. She didn’t need a mirror to know she’d turned scarlet. Lobster-colored. This happened when she got embarrassed, and it was why her mother sometimes called her “Odessa Red-Light.” Like getting stuck with the hyphenated Green-Light wasn’t annoying enough—even her own mother teased her about it. Her own mother, who along with her father, had de-hyphenated the whole family.

Odessa waited for Theo to make some joke to Bryce Bratton. But he didn’t. And because of this, because he quickly looked down at the math problems on the hexagonal table between them, Odessa’s like-like blossomed into full-blown love.

But Theo knew.

He had heard.

And he’d never forget.

This left Odessa with no choice but to go home and jump through the floor.

Still, there were parts of this day she didn’t want to relive.

On the day of the farting incident, Odessa had a checkup after school at which she received not one, but three shots. And that night there was a terrible thunderstorm. The window-shaking kind. The kind that made her rethink wanting to sleep in a room alone.

But neither shots nor thunderstorms seemed very big at all when stacked up next to the horror of Theo Summers hearing her fart.

So that night, as the thunder rattled her bones and the lightning lit up the darkening sky outside her window, Odessa rolled up her cheetah-print rug.

They’d just finished dessert. Chocolate banana pudding wasn’t her favorite, but it was a close second. When she considered living through the shots and the thunder again, she thought: At least there’ll be pudding!

Odessa tapped her toe on the exposed floorboards.

The thunder crackled outside. Terrifying. A sound like the whole world splitting in two. It reminded Odessa of the time she and Oliver dropped a watermelon out their bedroom window onto the back patio just to see what would happen.

What happened was that Mom got really mad.

Hurry! Jump. Get away from the thunder. Wake up again, start the day fresh, and avoid that terrible Odessa Red-Light moment.

But going back seventeen hours was different from leaving something behind.

The shots and the thunderstorm were still in front of her because … tomorrow wasn’t really tomorrow.

Once she jumped, tomorrow would become today all over again.